A man in slumber
by JohnlockPotterlockWholock
Summary: Ya so, in pretty sure this oaths worst fic I've ever written. Sometimes everything is in super ultra detail, and sometimes a jump around the story a lot. But other than that I think it's... Acceptable. It's for the lets wrote Sherlock challenge no. 2. Its a crossover with the Disney version of sleeping beauty.


Once, In a magical kingdom far away, a little prince was born. The king and the Queen hosted a large gathering for the prince's christening, for they were so joyous of their first born son; they chose to call him sherlock.  
Attending the little prince's christening were three fairies who each granted him with a gift. The first, a gift of unfathomable beauty. The second, wits sharper than a knights sword, and the third, grace and agility of movement. However there was one fairy who was not invited to Prince Sherlock's christening. Meleficent, the evil fairy, had caused the good King and Queen's first attempt at a child, who was to be Mycroft, to be still-born. Meleficent was furious with the King and Queen for excluding her, and she stormed into the christening, full of rage. She declared that at the age of sixteen, the Prince would prick his finger on a spinning wheel and fall to his death. The whole kingdom was in uproar! How would they live without their precious prince? The king and Queen did everything they could to protect their only child. They had every spinning wheel in the kingdom burned in a great bonfire, and sent Sherlock to live with his three fairy god mothers, never knowing he was a prince at all.

As expected, Sherlock grew to be very handsome indeed. His skin was of the fairest alabaster, and his hair the darkest ebony. His voice was deep and enchanting, and he was tall and lean with broad, sturdy shoulders and sinewy limbs. He was a brilliant hunter and he spent most of his time in the woods outside the little cottage he lived in with his godmothers, hunting silently. One morning, when the sun was just breaking through the cover of trees and the breeze made the leaves whisper, Sherlock came upon a strange man on a horse. He was following him from behind the bushes when the rider suddenly stopped and turned his horse around. Sherlock ducked as fast as he could, but could not stop the rustle of the leaves as he crouched.  
"Who goes there?" A demanding, yet strangely gentle and warm voice called out. Sherlock made no sound and did not move from his spot. The rider turned again and began to trot slowly away on his palomino horse. Sherlock watched the back of his blonde head shining in the sun. He was of a strong, stocky build and had kind, deep dark blue eyes. But his voice had surprised Sherlock. He had expected a sharp and angry voice. But the sound that came from the rider's mouth sounded almost as if he knew a beautiful man was hiding in the bushes, and not a robber or roughian of some sort, which was to be expected in these parts of the woods. Sherlock was suddenly struck with a strange idea. Quietly as he could, he set his bow with an arrow. He took careful aim, and shot straight at a tree branch above the rider's head. The branch shook, causing leaves to fall daintily onto the stranger'a shoulders.  
"I say, who's there?" Sherlock took his chance ad ran from his crouched position to behind a wide tree. The man must have heard Sherlock's steps, for he slid off his horse and turned slowly about himself, searching.  
By now, Sherlock wanted this strange man to find him. He let the hand holding his bow protrude slightly from behind the tree.  
"Aha! The man said, running forward and catching Sherlock by the wrist. Surprised at the sudden contact, Sherlock dropped his bow and let out a small gasp.  
"Oh!" The rider seemed surprised to find Sherlock. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you." He looked at Sherlock and felt his heart melt.  
Sherlock slowly reached down to pick up his bow, taking in every inch of the youth before him. For he saw now that this rider must be only a few years older than himself. The stranger took Sherlock's hand again and kissed it gently, bowing forward slightly. "I am prince John of the kingdom to the west. Might I ask a name?"  
Sherlock looked stunned. He brushed his fingers over the place where Prince John had kissed his hand before realizing he'd just been spoken to.  
"Sherlock." He filled the awkward silence by slinging his bow over his shoulder. "I apologize for following you, your highness. I rarely see anyone in these woods. I must say my curiosity overpowered my better judgement." Sherlock bowed his head, as was tradition to show respect for royalty.  
"Please call me John. There is no need for all those formalities. It is my honor to meet you. I must say, your name is so familiar. I believe it was the name given to the newborn prince of the kingdom neighboring mine sixteen years ago. Yes, I remember Mother telling me. I was only an infant, but I was at the prince's christening." John studied Sherlock carefully. "Are you not this prince? I have not known Sherlock to be a very common name." Sherlock was surprised and taken aback. Him? A prince?  
"No, I am of no noble blood. I live with my three godmothers. My parents sent me to live with them but I don't know why. I never knew my parents." Sherlock looked startled at his own confession and scrubbed the back of his long neck, embarrassed.  
"That's terrible. I'm sorry." And he sounded it. There was no false sympathy in John's voice or his eyes when he said it. He reached out and took Sherlock's hand for the third time, this time using it to pull them closer together.  
"It's not as bad as it sounds. You could say I don't know what I'm missing. And I'm perfectly happy how I am." John held Sherlock's hand in both of his, clutching it to his chest. "Come. Walk with me." He led Sherlock over to his horse and climbed up deftly, then held out his hand for Sherlock. At first, Sherlock was hesitant. But when he looked into John's eyes all his doubts were washed away. He slid gracefully behind John and wrapped his arms around the shorter man's torso. "Do you come here often?" John Asked.  
"Yes," Sherlock answered. " I live just a fair way from here." Sherlock couldn't believe his luck. Why John had asked him to ride with him was a mystery to him. "I don't quite understand." Said Sherlock, a little hesitantly. "Why would someone as regal as yourself wish to ride with a commoner like myself?" John twisted around so he was facing Sherlock, riding his horse backwards. "You are no ordinary commoner. I have never seen such beauty before, even among the fairest of women. You move with such grace and, I must say, you are very skilled with a bow and arrow. I was just so intrigued by your mysteriousness." Sherlock was absolutely shocked. A strange prince intrigued by his mysterious grace and beauty? He must be dreaming.  
"Thank you, John." He leaned in and kissed the prince lightly on the cheek before sliding skillfully off the horse. "I have to go now." Sherlock turned and began to walk in the direction opposite where John was headed on his horse.  
"Wait!" John called quickly flipping back into position on his steed and trotting over to Sherlock. "You can't leave now! We've only just met!" John hopped off his horse and caught Sherlock by the hand.  
"John. I'm sorry. I lied to you." Sherlock looked down shamefully.  
"About what?" John asked, not letting go of Sherlock.  
"I am the prince from sixteen years ago. I only found out today. My godmothers told me how I was sent away by my parents, the king and Queen." John stared in awe at the newly revealed prince before him. "Why did they send their only son away?"  
"I haven't the slightest. But I am to return to them today so that I may one day take my father's place as king. I don't want to become royalty." At Sherlock's words, John felt a pang of sympathy for him. To never know your parents and your true identity and them to be forced to rule a kingdom? John shuddered at the thought and took Sherlock's other hand with his own. "But I really must be off. My godmothers are waiting to take me to the palace."  
"Run away with me!" John said, abruptly. "Forget being a Prince and come live with me somewhere far away." John stared earnestly at Sherlock and stepped in closer to him.  
"I'm sorry, John. I can't leave a whole kingdom, as much as I would love to be with you. And John," he tightened his grip on johns hands and moved even closer. "Please don't go to fight in the war. I know you think it would be right of you to do as you're a prince, but please keep yourself safe." John stepped all the way away from Sherlock and stumbled slightly in surprise.  
" how did you know? About the war?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
"I don't know, I noticed. It's obvious in your physique that you've been training for it. You already have very good military posture and you don't carry a sword, meaning you're more accustomed to using a rifle, but of course you wouldn't bring one out on a little trip to the woods. However your neatness and attention to your surrounding tells me you would never go anywhere without some sort of defense, so you obviously trust your fighting abilities. Now I know there is a growing dispute between your kingdom and the one east of the mountains so obviously you're contemplating joining the war effort. I implore you to please keep yourself safe." John stood frozen where he stood. After a long silence he let out a short, breathy laugh.  
"That." He said, regaining his composure. "Was amazing." Sherlock looked surprised at johns reaction.  
"Was it?" He asked.  
"It was!" They stared at each other for a long while.  
"You know I already figured out you were a prince from the start. That's why I was so intent on following you. I just pretended I couldn't do what I just did because I was afraid of scaring you off. Most people get upset when I do that. They say its an invasion of privacy." John laughed. Then Sherlock laughed. Then they were both laughing and didn't stop until they were both completely out of breath. In their fits of laughter they had somehow managed to end up lying in the grass next to one another. They looked over at each other when their laughter subsided. "I like you, prince John. You're alright." He rolled onto his side to face John and propped himself up in his elbow.  
"I like you, too, prince Sherlock." Sherlock suddenly sat bolt upright, remembering what his new title required of him.  
"I really do have to go, now." He said and ran away without a backward glance.

When Sherlock arrived at his little cottage he was greeted by his three godmothers fighting to lead him, blindfolded, into the kitchen. When the blindfold was finally removed, the first thing he saw was a finely tailored uniform, complete with a cape and boots. This was clearly what princes wore. John had worn something similar. John. Sherlock let out a sigh.  
"Well, what do you think, dear?" His godmother Merryweather chided.  
"Oh I think you'll look just absolutely dashing! Said Fauna.  
"Yes! We made it this deep blue to bring out your eyes and we thought it would look very dramatic against your skin!" Piped up Flora.  
"It's wonderful, girls. Thank you ever so much." Sherlock faked enthusiasm and kissed each of his godmothers on the cheek. "If you all don't mind, I would like to retire to my bedroom before we depart for the castle."  
"Alright, dear. Don't be too long. You've got a big day ahead of you." Merryweather said as Sherlock began to ascend the stairs. Flora snatched up his new outfit and caught up with Sherlock in the stairs.  
"I can't wait to see you in it!" She handed him the clothes and kissed him on the cheek. " happy birthday again, love." Sherlock nodded and went to his room. Upon entering he threw himself onto his bed and tried not to let the tears fall, but fall they did. He really did not want to become a prince. The worst part, the part he hadn't told John, was that he had an arranged marriage with some prince from somewhere. And now he was in love with John. He was sure he would never be happy again.

At the palace his parents cried and hugged and kissed him. They had a feast for him and gave him a tour of the castle. They had the orchestra play for him and the court dancers dance for him, but he only pretended to be happy. By the end of the day, Sherlock was lying in his new bed, feeling cold and empty in an unfamiliar place where he should have grown up. He felt a chill run through the room and went to stoke the fire, but... What was that silvery light? He peered at it and leaned closer to the fire. He was just about to reach out and touch it when it floated gently out of the fire to hover right by his face. It was so beautiful. Suddenly all Sherlock could think about was this beautiful light. He watched it dance in front of him, glittering as emitting a soft tinkling noise, when it suddenly it darted to his door. Sherlock followed it and watched as it slowly seeped through the door, emptying the room of its faint bluish glow and plunging it back into darkness, the fire now gone out. Sherlock opened his door and saw the light ascending the spiral staircase. Sherlock quietly shut his door and crept up the stairs after the glowing sphere. It led him all the way up the staircase until he was in the small room at the very top of the highest tower in the castle. Sherlock watched, still mesmerized, as the little light zipped toward a lantern sitting on a table and perched itself there, becoming no more than a little flame in the lantern. Now that the room was full of gentle firelight, Sherlock could see a strange object sitting in the middle of the room. It had a large wheel and a stool to sit at. The most intriguing thing about this contraption, was the sharp needle that stuck out near one end. Sherlock slowly washed closer to the machine, his had outstretched to touch it. He was just about to touch it now, his finger inches away from the spike. He touched it and fell to the ground, seemingly dead.

"It is time." Said Flora to her sisters. "The prince has pricked his finger on the spinning wheel. We must put the kingdom to sleep with Sherlock."  
But what about that prince he was to marry?" Asked Merryweather earnestly.  
"I've cast a spell on him that will keep him young until the kingdom is ready to wake, and it will bring him forward in time. It will be as though two days have passed for him." Said Fauna. Together, the fairies put the while kingdom to sleep, and settled down themselves for a hundred-year-long nap.

John paced the length of his bedroom anxiously. He was thinking of a plan to help Sherlock escape his fate. He would pretend to kidnap him and then take him to a far away country where they could live happily together. He did not feel sorry at all for the prince whom he was to marry. He loved Sherlock and Sherlock alone. He hadn't even met the prince yet.

Two hours later he was riding his steed through a terribly overgrown castle front garden. The path was blocked by thickets that grew taller than him on his horse, and he struggled to make his way to the front doors. Finally he slipped of his horse and pushed open the great oak doors with much effort, ad they were nearly sealed shut with rust. Why on earth did everything seem so old? This was the castle in which Sherlock was born and now living. The gardeners really did an awful job of keeping the castle looking neat. John stepped into the castle and immediately stopped in his tracks, and laughed. The guards were all asleep at their posts! As John moved through the castle, his amusement was replaced with wariness. Everywhere, people were asleep. In the kitchen, the throne room, the weapon room. The into thing that kept John from thinking them dead, was the slow rise and fall of their chests ad the occasional snore. John made his way through the whole castle until he came to a bedroom suite near the top of the castle. Carefully, he opened the door. When he opened the door, he saw... It couldn't be. Sherlock was lying asleep in his bed, perfectly positioned atop his covers. He looked like a doll he was so perfect. His dark curls falling over his brow gently, his cherub lips pouring slightly in his sleep state. His skin almost glittered in the dim lighting. Without. Thinking, John rushed forward and gently brushed a curl away from Sherlock's face and stroked his dramatic cheekbones. He was so beautiful ad John couldn't help himself. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's soft, pink lips. Suddenly John felt Sherlock's eyelashes flutter against his face. He pulled away to see Sherlock smiling at him.  
"John." He breathed. "You came for me!" He grabbed John and pulled him down for a deeper kiss.

Several years later, John and Sherlock are married to the princes they were set to marry one hundred years ago. Which means they were happily married to each other, and they ruled their now combined kingdoms in peace and happiness.

Fin.


End file.
